Wolven
by DemonBredChild
Summary: A legend in the making, follow the path of a young demon hunter as he looks for a place in the world. Read & Review Please. ActionAdventure, some Drama, some Humor.
1. Of Outcasts and Orphans

_Repost_: After my first entry of this was nuked for an infraction in the summary --' I'm posting it again, and trying to avoid breaking the rules this time… if you've already read the first chapter, don't worry about it, just move on to the second.

**_Primary Disclaimer_**: All things officially Warcrafted related and created by Blizzard are definitely not owned by me. However, the original characters and concepts in this story are. I will not make anymore disclaimers or add to this one unless new, unmentioned copyrighted material arises, so this one will stand for the entire fanfic.

Also, much thanks to **barking mad arthur** BMA for helping me out with some stuff. Some of you may know her from her Tortured Hearts series. If you've never heard of it, go read it now you little bastards. You don't know what you're missing.

And now, I proudly present the very first chapter of _Wolven_!

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_Atrum. Yes, that would be his name… Atrum Lupus Everto… No longer would he be called 'Child' or 'Orphan.' The days of the past had come and gone, and so had his childhood, sooner than he had hoped. But he was done with this foul village. He was done with the rule of the King, and those silly paladins. He was done, and now he wanted to move on to something else. He'd had his revenge, and now there was nothing left for him here. The 17 year old boy picked up what little belongings he had and began to head north into the horizon, leaving the little town behind him._

Atrum sighed. Five years had passed since then. What with all the Orcs and Trolls, and Wolves and Gnolls, Golems and Infernals that he had to encounter, he had begun to regret leaving the secluded village. Until he had seen it only a year before, overrun by the Scourge, and suddenly, his day got brighter. But that didn't matter now. Atrum was a demon hunter, an eastern and Human one at that... He had seen a couple western Night Elf demon hunters a few months ago. Needless to say, the style was incredibly different. For one, the lack of eyeballs had certainly unnerved Atrum. Although the more humorous hunter had let him insert a couple of gems into his eye sockets, for hell of it. That was one memory he wouldn't soon forget. They'd nearly run away with those gems too…

Atrum was an odd looking fellow, but then again, many things seemed odd in Azeroth. His raven colored hair sprouted wildly upon his head. Two bangs fell in opposite directions, and the rest seemed to naturally spike itself at least four inches into the air, with various other smaller bangs falling upon his forehead. His eyes were an eerie golden color, known well for the fear they could strike into the hearts of men and beasts alike. He carried a helmet, which looked as if it was made from the skull of a wolf, under his right arm. The oddity about the helmet, other than its origins, was the set of horns on top it. Three grey horns, dimmed from what once may have been a pearly white. On his right shoulder rested an iron shoulder plate and his hands were armed with gauntlets made from triple-layered demon leather. One of the few likenesses he had shared with the western hunters, however, was his style of dress. No shirt, some lightweight training pants, and a pair of shoes, just like the westerners. His body was well toned from years of combat and training, In his left hand, he gripped a hunter's traditional semi-circular 'War Blade,' and slung on his back was an incredibly thin sword, if you could even call it that. 'Thin' was meant in both senses, for the blade was neither wide nor thick, but slim overall, though Atrum never doubted its sharpness. He sighed as he looked down at the helmet under his right arm, remembering again what started this little escapade in the first place…

_A 5 year old shrieked in terror as the window of his home was shattered, the shape of a wolf blasting through it. The wall collapsed as the window was torn out, too small of an entrance for the beast. A man in his early forties leapt from his spot near the fireplace, grabbing a hatchet he had used earlier that day while a woman ran towards the cupboard, frantically searching through it, grabbing the sharpest tools she could find and flinging them at the beast. Their efforts proved futile as the beast shook off the various projectiles and impaled the man with its sharpened claws. As it stood up, the boy could see its form, humanlike, with three horns atop its head. Throwing him off towards one side, the monster made its way towards the woman who was now shaking with tears. With a single swipe, the wolf demon split her in two, tearing off a support beam in the process. The building collapsed, and the wolf fled._

Later, Atrum had learned that the wolf was actually a Fel Werewolf, an interesting creation of the Burning Legion. How the orcs had managed to summon one, if it was even them in the first place, he did not know, but it had haunted him for many years. It was then that a he swore to avenge his parents' deaths and kill the beast. That was how he had ended up with his helmet, about five and a half years ago. It was also how he had ended up with his curse. Although his demonically charged war blade managed to weaken the magical attributes of the creature, its bite was still deadly effective. Though managed to remedy himself with the help of a Potionsmaster before he had gained any of the demon's physical traits, the beast's curse had still managed to corrupt him. A definite fact was that now, half of his soul was that of a demon werewolf, and it changed him a little. For one, every now and then Atrum tended to howl at the moon. Another was that the smell of blood often stirred an animal-like rage in him, something he had managed to control over time. But the last and worst change was the fact that on a full moon, part of him would be lost to the wolf, and he would only have half the control he usually would. This caused many problems, because inns had kicked him out for being too rowdy, women and little children had fled from his presence, and he kept being arrested by those bloody paladins! He never did like them, you know. The Silver Hand was pretty high on his list of things to hate. Nope, he didn't like them at all. Well, maybe Uther… but that was only because he gave him that apple pie that one time when he was younger…

Atrum closed his eyes sighed again "Ah… sweet, sweet pie… where art thou when I need you the most?"

"Obviously not here" came a rough dog-like voice from behind him. Atrum's eyes shot open, but in vain. A quick swipe to his neck set him to sleep, and the Gnolls dragged him away.

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Torva was a forest troll, a very miserable one at that. For you see, he was an outcast berserker. A captured outcast berserker. A _starving _captured outcast berserker. The damned Gnolls hadn't fed him in 3 days. The idiots continued to ask for ransoms from his tribe. But the elders and chieftain had already thrown him out a couple of days before his capture, and no one cared about what happened to him. As far as he could tell, Torva would be rotting in this cage for a very long time.

"Ugh… dis be hell…" Torva looked towards the entrance of the Gnoll encampment. Some unlucky bastard was being dragged in by the lil' hairballs. The troll turned to shout towards another cage "Ey! Ey, blondie! Wake up, mon! Da Gnolls be bringin' in a new guy!"

A male elf awoke from his slumber, rattling the cage he was being held in. Annoyed, he turned back towards the troll.

"My name is Rowan, you bloody oaf! And how the hell should I know? What do you take me for, a magician?" the last part came out as more of a grumble than a shout.

As they threw him into his cage, Atrum awoke with a yelp. He ran his hands around himself wildly, searching for his equipment, but it was gone. He had been stripped of all weapons and armor beforehand.

'Great…' he thought. The Gnoll that threw him in turned to him and began to speak in what sounded like Common.

"What be your name, Huee-mann" Atrum frowned. He hated Gnolls. They reminded him of warped and twisted wolves. Contrary to normal wolves, which surprisingly, he had a slight liking towards. Perhaps it was because they had aided him in the killing of the demon wolf… but no matter.

"Atrum. Atrum Everto." The Gnoll growled and made its way back to the others. Atrum sighed. This was going to be a long day… He looked around and realized he had company. An elf and a troll were next to him, the troll being the closest.

"Yo, mon. Who you be?"

"Atrum… what about you two?"

"Tha' guy ova the' be.. Roh…wahn" the troll seemed to struggle with the name. At this, the elf smirked.

The one named Rowan gave a quick wave to Atrum "Pleased to meet you. Please, you've got to help us get out of here. No one else is coming for us… we're going to starve to death if this goes on much longer! Not to mention that for each second that I spend here, I lose another portion of my sanity…"

"He be right, mon. Dese Gnolls smell like chieftain on bad day... chieftain known fo' even makin' be'zerke'z go crazee." He frowned to emphasize his point "Oh, by dee way, I'm Torva." Atrum's eyebrows quirked at the name.

"Is that your real name?" He asked. Torva laughed.

"No, no… was given to me by som' human a lil befo' I was ou'casted. Since den, I use it 'stead o my real name."

"Ah, I see. Any idea of what it means?"

"No, mon."

"It means 'wild,' Torva."

"Oooh…Sweeeet, mon. But how you know tha'?"

"It's from an ancient language used by the Titans called Satornarro. I've studied it a little."

"Ah.. coo'… So wha we do 'bout gettin' outta here?"

Atrum paused. There was little that he _could_ do, actually. Some of his magic still worked, but in a cramped space like this, there was little use for it. "Hmm…" he thought for a moment as both the troll and elf looked at him curiously. He looked up at the sky, and his eyes widened. By the stars, he was in luck! The shadow of a full moon floated in the sky, hidden behind blue and white. "Guys, I've got an idea. But we'll have to wait till night. So just sit tight till then, alright?" Torva looked thoughtful for a moment, but then nodded and settled into his cage. Rowan just raised an eyebrow and turned away with a scowl. With one final glance at the others, the hunter turned away, deciding to take a rest and save his energy.

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Night came fast. Atrum might have forgotten to wake up if not for the wolf in him. The Moon was now high up in the dark starry sky, hidden beneath some cloud cover. He turned to Torva and Rowan, whom were both now sound asleep. Rattling his cage, he tried to get their attention.

"_Torva! Rowan! Wake up!" _He spoke in whispered shouts that almost came out as hisses. The troll was quick to wake, but they seemed to have no such luck with Rowan. He was stuck in a deep slumber, something Atrum had come to long for every now and then.

"_Ey, mon. Da elf be sleepin' like a Dwarf. Looks like we be leavin'im behind, ya? _" Torva didn't seem to mind this much, but Atrum found difficulty in condemning people to the same fate his parents suffered. Thus, he had no choice but to find some way to save the elf.

"…_When I break our cages open, you sling him over your should and start running. I'll take care of the Gnolls._" Torva stared at the human as though he'd grown a second head. Atrum gave it no heed; he was too busy staring at the clouds shielding the moon.

"_Wha's wrong wit you, mon! You be crazy?_" Atrum managed a glance towards Torva, finding the troll to be seriously questioning his reasoning "_You walk in 'ere—no, wai', sorry, you ge'_ _yo sorry as' _dragged _in 'ere, knocked ou', 'alf dead, stripped o' ya armor, and now you espec' ta take on da ho' Gnoll tribe by yo'self? A'least lemme help, you foo'! Na' even da suicida's do dis shi'!_" Torva's rant had not even gotten a flinch out of the calm and cool hunter. His eyes continued to follow the trail of the clouds, watching the moon and showing no signs of wavering. The troll growled at his apparent lack of attention "_You even listenin' to meh, mon!_"

Atrum responded in an odd manner "_…They caught me off guard last time. It won't happen again…besides… Tonight, the wolves are on my side…_" his voice was detached and he himself was focused on something else. "_Look…_" he said "_The clouds are almost gone. The moon will rise from her hiding place… and the children of the night will walk this earth once more…_"

"_Wha?.. You be nuts, mon_" Torva looked upon his fellow prisoner with confusion. What the _hell_ was he talking about? He, however, found it best not to ask, and simply sat and watched as a strange transformation overtook the human.

The moment the light of the moon made contact with the hunter's eyes, Atrum perked up, his eyes becoming a milky white as the pupils within them shrunk into nothing, followed by an eerie red glow that reminded Torva of an Ogre full of Bloodlust. His jaw was left hanging, mouth half open as a hint of drool began to drip out the side. His back suddenly lurched downwards, curling itself, as did his fingers, making it seem as if his hands were clawed. With his knees slightly bent, Atrum stalked around his cage for a moment, before stopping and looking directly at the moon. Without any warning, he let loose a frighteningly loud and bone chilling howl.

With another roar of feral rage, the former human shot a fist through the side of the cage, breaking it open and making his way to the other cages, where he followed suite with his previous actions. Torva, now free, quirked an eyebrow at Atrum. The berserker opened his mouth to say something, but found himself at a loss for words. Seeing no further reason to waste time, he went over to pick up sleeping elf, and ran off into the night, with said magical being slung over his shoulder, bobbing his head up and down.

Atrum followed the pair as they made their way through the encampment. It had only been a few seconds afterwards that three of four Gnolls ran out from their tents, firing off arrows and running towards them with their clubs. The troll had been trained to dodge the arrows with ease, but the elf over his shoulder had slowed him down, and it was beginning to become very difficult to maneuver. By now, all nine Gnolls in the encampment, including the leader, had shown themselves. With the firepower of the five crossbowmen, the strength and speed of three brutes, and their chieftain to lead them, it seemed like Torva and Rowan wouldn't be able to make it out of the camp.

Of course, the site of Atrum launching two fully grown Gnolls into the wild blue yonder expressed a very different opinion on the matter.

It was amazing how such a puny human ripped through the ranks of the wild dogs. In many ways did he fight like a wolf, pouncing on his enemy, clawing at them, dodging each arrow and swing with fluid grace and harmonized motion, each movement leading into the next, as if he had the entire fight planned from the very beginning. An arrow flew past his face, and what would have been a fatal blow became the downfall of another Gnoll. Atrum somehow managed a backflip and landed on top of the beast's head, using his legs to grab a firm hold of its neck, and letting his momentum do the rest. The Gnoll was flung backwards into one of its companions.

Satisfied with his work, Atrum allowed himself a wicked grin before turning to survey the remaining forces. Two Gnolls were left standing, the Chieftain and what appeared to be his best warrior. Atrum frowned and turned his back on them, they weren't worth his time. Had he turned his head back one more, he would have seen the dogs praying to some Creep god, thanking it for its mercy.

The troll berserker had lain the elf down behind a tree, and turned to look back on the battle, amazed with Atrum's abilities. Atrum himself wasn't all too proud of it. Living with the soul of a feral wolf was more of a curse than a blessing. Catching up with Torva, the hunter attempted to speak, now calmed from being out of the moon's shine, under the shadowy cover of trees.

"Toh..! Torva!" Atrum paused to catch his breathe "Are you alright? How's Rowan?"

The troll turned to look at him with an amused look. He nodded his head in the direction of Rowan, who was still fast asleep, set down next to a mossy tree trunk. With a hearty laugh, the berserker made his way towards Atrum, a wide grin on his face.

"We be fiiiine, mon, don joo even worreh 'bout it. Da blondie ova heah, he slep' thru da who'e thin, an' it was smoo' sailin' from theh on. I gotta say tho, dee foo' iz moh coo-op'rativ when he ou' cold." Torva's grin began to spasm out infectious giggles as Atrum's battle-ready form slumped backwards, his head falling with it as he and Torva launched into full blown laughter. After a minute or so, the merry mood died down and the night fell silent once more. A few more moments of silences led Torva to attempt a conversation.

"So… we free now. Wa'chu gonna do now, mon?" Torva quirked an eyebrow at Atrum. The Hunter looked up at him momentarily. The dead of the night obscured most everything about Torva. The shape of a troll and a mesh of green were the only distinguishable features he could make out. Maybe tomorrow, he'd get a better look…

With a yawn, the man thought deeply about his current goals. This wasn't very difficult, seeing as he had none, other than staying alive and managing a meaningful existence. But in the end… what was left for him here? He had no friends; the paladins were constantly after his tail… almost every inn and tavern in the area knew of his curse. All he had left was the wild and the wolves… and of course…these people. Rowan and Torva, two folks that now owed him their lives. Something he'd never admit too. Whoever these folks were, they didn't look like they belonged in the civilized world. No, perhaps he could live with them for a little while. Torva obviously didn't care about his… 'problem,' and Rowan would have to come to accept it anyway, so…why not? He'd give it a shot. 14 years of demon hunting and look where he's at now. The time for work was over, he'd enjoy life again with his new…friends. What a foreign word. He'd have to fix that in the near future.

"To tell you the truth, Torva… I don't have any plans. You?" He looked over at his companion.

The trolled eyed him with a bemused expression "Joo kiddin' me, mon? Dis place be infested wi'h zombiez. I's hahd 'nuff jus to su'vive 'roun' heeyah" He nodded his head to emphasize the point. Atrum perked up at his answer.

"Then.. if you're interested, I've been looking for some… company. You know, party members. I figure I could take on bigger and better jobs if I had more people with me… ya know." He looked at the berserker with a half-smile. Torva raised an eyebrow and stared at him for some time before answering.

"Ah, I see mon… so, lemme clarify dis. Joo askin' me to join ya in…waz it dat joo do, mon?"

"Uhm.. Demon hunting, mostly"

"Ya, yah... dee'mon hun'tin…joo wan' a pahtneh in jo professhin?"

"Yeah. You…and Rowan too, I guess." He said, a little nervous and unsure.

Torva look up at the sky and chuckled a little "Well, you betta be thankin jo lucky stah'z. I'll work foh ya, buh wit a small price."

The human nodded. "Of course."

"Den iz settled. Nice to meetchu, pahtneh." Torva grinned again and extended a hand in friendship.

Atrum smiled and shook it vigorously "Likewise." Afterwards the two sat down, and enjoyed the starry expanse as the Goddess Elune painted her dark blue night.

…

" 'Ey mon.."

"Yeah?"

Torva paused for a moment "…I tink we sittin' unda a bee hive…"

"…Shit!"

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Phew! Wow! Off to a quick start…I'd say that's good. So what did you think, folks? R&R please. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and if you're going to flame me, at least have a good reason and a decent argument. My recycle bin doesn't like the taste of stupidity.

Satornarro – The Latin words Sator and Narro put together. It means Creator-Speak, or more specifically, the language of the Titans.


	2. The Greatest Lesson

Hello again, folks. I hope you liked the first chapter of _Wolven_, in this chapter, and the coming chapters, I've decided to make the addition of a travel log. This way, everyone will have more of an understanding of what each character has. I'm doing this because soon, it'll get complicated, so if anyone needs to know about any of these guys, you can just check up here, and you'll know all you need to know. If you guys think the travel log is pointless, just go ahead and tell me.

**_Addition to Primary Disclaimer_**: I do not own the statement "Never underestimate the power of stupid people working in large groups." It is copyrighted by Despair Inc., professional de-motivators.

These first few entries are for the sake of silliness.

**Travel Log**

Atrum

_Status_: Adjusting to the group.

_Inventory_: Empty

_Spells_: None identified.

_Abilities_: Full Moon Metamorphosis.

Torva

_Status_: Keepin' it coo', mon.

_Inventory_: Nuttin' theh, mon.

_Spells_: No comment, mon.

_Abilities_: Well, I pretty goo' a' cookin'.

Rowan

_Status_: Waking up.

_Inventory_: Empty

_Spells_: Okay, that's just mean.

_Abilities_: Inventing and tinkering, I'm good with mechanics.

And now, I give you _Wolven_!

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Atrum was dumbfounded. So many things had happened in such a short period of time that he'd been left with a bunch of odd thoughts and jumbled emotions. As of late, he was going over recent events in his mind, because that was all he could think of. Within the last 24 hours, Atrum L. Everto might have just managed to learn one of the greatest lessons in all of history:

Never underestimate the power of stupid people working in large groups.

_Indeed_, he thought. After being chased for over 2 hours by a hive—no, an _armada_ of bloodthirsty hornets, and then making a 'smart' decision and jumping into a monster infested lake to avoid the hornets, and instead be eaten alive by a fleet of giant sea turtles, Atrum felt that he'd had enough adventures for one day. Of course, life was never so kind. After the sea turtles came the pack of stampeding Centaur. Then came the giant spiders, followed by the flesh eating maggots. Then, that group of drunken pandarens, and finally, the rabid squirrels.

Atrum shivered. It was frightening just thinking about those creatures! They weren't your average everyday squirrels. Oh no, they traveled in groups...extremely large groups. Hundreds of them had swarmed down from the trees! Torva barely resisted wetting himself, Rowan was not so lucky. Atrum had nearly been carried away by the horde. Their escape had cut it very close when the trio tried to out-maneuver the evil squirrels from hell. Torva had taken the lead, more familiar with the area around them. As they neared the side of a cliff, Torva made a small jump and landed on a smaller slide of land along the cliff walls. Atrum and Rowan followed suit and not a moment later did they witness the end of the evil fuzzies. Hundreds and hundreds of cute and fuzzy squirrels, all meeting their demise at the bottom of the cliff's unforgiving abyss.

Eventually, the group had climbed back up the wall and began to head back in the direction of the gnoll camp after Atrum had made the observation that none of them had any gear on. Torva was also missing his throwing axes and whatever gold he had managed to bring with him before his capture. Rowan… well, he'd stayed quiet about his stuff and said that it was personal. Once again, Torva was in the lead when they were heading back towards the gnoll camp. On the way, Atrum struck up a conversation.

"So, Rowan, what did you do before this, um, incident?"

"Yah, mon. Joo nevah talk 'bout yo sef" Rowan kept his head low and his eyes on his feet as he began to play around with his fingers. Atrum quirked an eyebrow. He was awfully shy and reserved for an elf.

"I…well, uh. I'm… a mix of an inventor, mechanic, and engineer of sorts… I... like to play around with gadgets: take them apart, put them back together… maybe make something new… I like that kind of stuff…"

"Ah, I see." Atrum gave him an odd look "But, isn't that an odd occupation for an elf? What about magic?" Rowan cringed.

"Som'tin wrong, mon?"

"N..No. I'm fine… just a little stressed, I guess... yeah." Atrum frowned. The man would often break off into quiet, incoherent mumbles. In his mind, Atrum knew that this man had issues, and one way or another, he would figure out what they were. It wasn't like he had much better to do. But now wasn't the time, and since Rowan wasn't much of a talker, Atrum turned to Torva.

"What about you?"

"Wha' about meh?"

"You haven't spoken of your past either."

"Wha's theh to say? I was a be'ze'ke, I screw'd up, go' mah as' hande' to meh by da chieftan, den I go' kick'd ou.' Sim'po as dat."

"How'd you screw up?" The troll visibly sighed.

"It…waz hahd, me job. Theh wan'ed meh to raid a hu'mon town. I though', _Ey, dis be eezeh shi', I be don by mornin'._ Bu' then, I see diz lil gurl en 'er momma, an I tink o me lil sista back home… I jus couldn' do it, mon. So, foh dishon'ohin mah tribe, I be sen'enced to exile." The troll hunched his back to the ground even lower than before. Atrum stared at him in shock. A troll with a heart? Now he'd seen everything!

"Yeah, well… you did the right thing." He grinned as Torva perked his head up.

"So… we coo'?" Atrum shook his head. Rowan looked at the troll with a slight smile.

"Yeah, you aren't _that_ bad. But you still smell like dog shit…"

"Tanks, mon… I tink"

After that, none of them spoke a word for some time. Atrum looked around at the lush green forests. He wasn't very familiar with this area, probably because he was lost. The grass was lush and green, the trees were large and full of life, birds were in the air and squirrels—Atrum shivered—were hopping from tree to tree. The forest seemed to have avoided the Scourge's presence altogether. As Atrum passed under the shadow of a large oak, his augmented sense of smell picked up the odor of a dog, or more specifically, a gnoll. That was good news; he missed the comfortable grip of his Warblade and the nice ring of his bag of gold.

"I think we're almost there." Torva turned his head back and gave him an odd look.

"Wha' makes joo say da—oh, wait, nevermind…" he grumbled "Yah, so... heeyah we ah, folks." He stopped at the edge of a clearing as the fertile trees and bushes emptied into the gnoll camp. Atrum was the first to enter with Torva and Rowan following suit. The camp looked rather dreary and torn up, the damage done from the previous night still clearly visible. No gnolls were outside manning their posts. Atrum remembered only seeing two gnolls conscious before he had left the camp. Was that really all that was left? In a way, he felt bad. Was this what the bloody thirsty wolf that killed his parents was capable of? The creature that lived in him, it knew no mercy. He shook off the nauseous feeling, finding it difficult to keep his composure. No, it wasn't worth thinking about; he had to keep his mind on task if he were to do this. Torva noticed his sudden discomfort.

"Joo okay, mon? Joo look a lil' pale."

"I'm fine, just… I'm just thinking too much, that's all."

"Whatevah joo say, mon…"

Rowan remained silent while the other three looked around camp. Curious, he looked about the camp. There were 3 huts, two of which were in ruin. The last hut was larger and crafted with more care than the others. If there were any survivors left, they'd probably be in there. Looking around again, he also noticed an apparent lack of supplies. They probably stored those in the hut, along with the group's forgotten items.

"Hey…" he said quietly. The shy elf gestured the others to come towards him.

"What is it, Rowan?" The elf pointed towards the hut ands poke in a hushed whisper "_Shh! None of their supplies are lying around. My guess is they're all in their, with whatever was left of the gnoll tribe._" Torva made a face.

"_So… Atroom be takin' dis?_" The demon hunter frowned. Why did he have to do all of the work!

"_Feh._ _Alright, whatever… just_..._ wait here! I don't want any distractions._" He began to creep over to the hut after the other two nodded in acknowledgement. Slowly and silently, he pulled away a flap as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. The remaining gnolls plus one were tending to some of their wounded. Atrum couldn't remember how many trolls he had put out of commission, but he was pretty sure a few bodies were missing. Two females and one large male gnoll were nursing the wounded. The largest gnoll, and apparently the chieftain, was sitting on top a stool, brooding in the corner. His dog-like body was covered in all sorts of scars and tattoos. A headband rested on the creatures head, and a huge war hammer lay next to him. Further to the creature's right, and Atrum's left, were all that was left of the tribe's supplies, and as Rowan had predicted, the items they had looted off the group.

Going over the outcome of a battle with these creatures, Atrum realized that he had managed to cripple their forces in such a way that if they decided to attack him right now, he could easily cut through them without the need of a full moon or the use of any of his spells. After another moment of thought, Atrum decided on a diplomatic solution. Why waste blood when words could take its place? Slowly but surely, the hunter stalked over to the brooding chieftain, whom seemed to be too lost in his own thoughts to notice Atrum's presence. Even if he weren't brooding, the gnoll wasn't likely to notice Atrum in the poorly lit hut. A single, weak fire provided the only light in the room, and Atrum used it fully towards his advantage. Silently moving even closer to the large gnoll, Atrum stepped into the light, only to be met with—

"Gah! Demon!" the gasps and cries of the gnolls snapped the chieftain out of his brooding. He gasped, noticing how close Atrum was. The creature reached for its weapon, but Atrum kicked it away—with some difficulty—before the gnoll could reach it.

Atrum let out an exasperated sigh _Well, that could have gone better…_ Looking the chieftain square in the eye, he could tell even this behemoth was frozen in fear at the sight of him. _Oh good,_ He thought _Now everyone is afraid of me, even the creeps. At this rate, I'll never get a girlfriend… Hah!_ Slowly, Atrum took a step back into the shadows, his figure now half covered by them. He put his hands up and faced his palms towards them as a sign of peace, turning around to let the other gnolls see. "Now now, let's not….do anything drastic here, folks. I just came to… negotiate."

The gnolls growled. The deep, rough voice of the chieftain caught Atrum's attention. "You…Demon…After what you did to us…You dare to shame us with your presence after what you did?" Atrum narrowed his gaze onto the gnoll.

"I could do it all over again, if you want me to."

The creature growled in fury again. "You disgust me, Demon…" the name had malice dripping all over it. After another pause, it spoke again. "…What do you want from us?" Atrum smirked. _Now we're getting somewhere…_

"Well, first… I want to apologize." And then came the stares. Yup, wide-eyed looks from the gnolls that wanted to say 'What the hell," but were too busy wetting themselves to manage any sort of action successfully. "Yeah, you heard me right. My original intention was just to escape, but at the time, I had no control over myself. You see, I'm a…"

--------------

"What do you think he's doing in there?"

"Beats meh, mon."

"But… he's taking so long. Do you think they caught him?"

"Probableh not, mon. Dat guy… he know how ta take care o' himself. Guess joo could say he like a lone wolf."

"Then what could he be doing?" Torva allowed himself a sinister grin.

"Mebbe he havin' hot steameh sex wit' sum hot gnoll chick." Rowan frowned.

"You're a charming troll, aren't you?"

"I love joo too, mon."

--------------

"…So, that's basically what happened. I can't remember exactly what it went… my memory is always really fuzzy when it comes to full moons. I regret hurting you in such a way, and I offer you my deepest apologies." The chieftain sighed, and bowed his head.

"I understand, young one. You have the Howler's curse." Atrum scrunched up his face, confused.

"I've got a what now?"

"The Howler's curse, Demon. Some time ago, our tribe was harassed by a werewolf similar to the one you spoke of. A few of our people had been attacked, and thus gained the werewolf's curse. However, our dog-like attributes did not change much, so we could never tell. The only difference we noticed was that at night, our tribesmen would make bone chilling howls at the moon, and afterwards, they would frenzy in chaotic bloodlust. This earned a bad name for us gnolls… and now you know why we are hunted and hated." Atrum's eyes widened.

"Y-you're kidding me!"

"No, young one. That is the truth…" the large gnoll sighed sadly. "A curse put upon us by the legion's corruptions, and the wrong-doings of the cursed ones have put my people and I in this struggle for survival. Our race is one of sorrows."

_Wow…I never thought…_ Atrum wanted to throw. He'd killed these creatures often in the past without a second thought, but this… this was different. The gnolls weren't a race of cold hearted killers; they were a people struggling to survive! Yes… it all made sense now. Not often did they kill, most gnoll tribes only resorted to kidnapping. _This isn't right… I should repay them somehow for what I've done…_ "Old one… what is your name?"

The old gnoll looked up at Atrum, its weary eyes struggling to focus. "I am Gahren Silvertooth, last of the Silvertooth dynasty... though it was never much of one."

"Gahren…my name's Atrum. I have an offer for you. Your camp is in ruin, and if you were to be attacked now, the chance of your people surviving after the fight, much less through it, would be slim to none. If you will follow under my rule… I promise to offer you both my protection, and to swear an oath to clear your people's name."

The gnoll stared up at the hunter as if he'd grown a second head. "You can't be serious, young one! How in the world are you going to manage to do that?" Atrum smiled back at him.

"There is nothing left for me here, Gahren. I want to give my life meaning. Besides," he grinned "You really shouldn't be asking me that question after what we just went through last night, ya know." There was a pause, followed by some quiet chuckling, and then came the hearty laughter as Gahren and Atrum relaxed themselves, finally comfortable and in good humor.

"But… young one… How can my people trust you? How can we lay the survival of our entire tribe in the hands of a Howler?" Gahren looked from Atrum to the wounded and pointed in their direction "How can we trust you, a Howler, who's capable… of _this_?" Atrum felt the unnerving silence go by as he thought. How _could_ they trust him? No one could trust Atrum… no one. Not even himself. A while longer past before he answer.

"I don't know, Gahren. I.. I really don't know." Gahren looked at him for a moment. Atrum kept his eyes on the floor, but he knew the old one was watching him.

"Ah, very well then…" Gahren pushed himself off the stool and stood up. He leaned back down, grabbed his war hammer and used it to stand. Tapping the ground twice with it, he caught hold of the attention of all the gnolls in the hut, plus Atrum. "From this moment on, the Silvertooth tribe swears their allegiance to Master Atrum, and to follow his lordship wherever he may go, under the conditions that he gives us his protection, and swears to free our people from the prejudices of this world! Do you agree to the conditions, Master Atrum?" Atrum looked up in surprise, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Damn right I do!" Gahren smiled in return.

"Very good, very good…. From now on, the Silvertooth clan follows Lord Atrum's words above all else!" And the merry cheers of the gnoll tribe filled the hut from then on. Gahren turned back towards his new master. "_I have given you a chance, Lord Atrum_._ Please_..._ do not waste it_."

--------------

"Wha' da hell?" Torva and Rowan were pretty damn confused. Cheers were coming from the little hut. Had the gnolls captured Atrum? "Stay heeyah Rohwan, I'm a go see wha' happen…"

"No need, Torva…" Atrum stepped out of the hut, not letting go of the flap behind him.

"Atroom! Wha' be happenin' to ya, mon?" Torva rushed over to him, but stopped as soon as a large form stepped out of the hut "Shi'! Da dog-mon's gonna keel us! Run awa—"

"Relax, Torva" Atrum cut him off. "He's with us now. More specifically, me."

"I am Chief Gahren. My tribe and I have sworn to follow Master Atrum without question, wherever he may go! His allies are our allies." Rowan peeked his head from behind the rock he was hiding.

"So…you're not going to kill us?" Torva snickered when he heard him whimpering slightly.

"Nah, they're pretty nice guys once you get to know em." Atrum looked around. The camp was still a mess, meaning they had lots of work to do if they were to get this done before nightfall. "Alright, here's the deal!" He shouted so that both the gnolls inside and outside could hear him. "Anyone that doesn't have to tend to the wounded is going to help move all this stuff around! Salvage any materials that you can, and help prepare a caravan for the group! We're getting out of here and heading for the nearest town! That is all. Don't slack off or else you won't be getting any dinner tonight! Any questions?... Good! Now get to work, I want this done before nightfall!"

As he ended his speech, he turned back to stare at the sky for a moment, and smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he could create something this time, rather than destroy… Atrum looked back at the camp and went on with assisting with the work around camp. He had work to do and a promise to uphold. People were counting on him to keep them safe, they were giving him their trust. Atrum was grateful to have it.

--------------

Ah…the end of another chapter. I hope you guys like what's going on. Also, I must stress the fact that having people read my story but leave no review is an annoyance beyond any of hell's creations. I'm doing this cause I like it, but there are so many friggin stories on that I see no point in writing if no one is going to bother reading my work and tell me how I'm doing. So, please, just leave a review when you're done reading. Honestly, 5 minutes of your time isn't that much to ask for.


	3. To Trust

**Travel Log**

Atrum

_Status_: Nervous, but excited.

_Inventory_: War Blade, Burnsabre, Werewolf Helm, 760 gold, Satornarro studies, "A Brief Glance into the Burning Legion" by Malfurion Stormrage

_Spells_: None identified.

_Abilities_: Full Moon Metamorphosis.

Torva

_Status_: Ex'austod, mon.

_Inventory_: Dual Throwing Axes.

_Spells_: Damnit, why dis evon be heeyah?

_Abilities_: I okay at tellin' jokes…

Rowan

_Status_: Scared shitless.

_Inventory_: Toolkits, Gadgets, unfinished weapons, Various engineering books, 160 gold.

_Spells_: Can't you just get rid of this thing already!

_Abilities_: Inventing, Tinkering, and Fleeing.

Gahren

_Status_: Cautious.

_Inventory_: Warhammer, Studded Fur Armor, Chieftain's Helm, 520 Gold

_Spells_: None Identified.

_Abilities_: None Identified.

Group

_Group Morale_: Moderate

_Machines/Vehicles_: 3 LargeWagons

_Troops_: 14 Gnolls

_Supplies_: 6 Bushels of food, Gnoll weaponry.

And now, I give you _Wolven_!

------------

The newly built caravan had set out north, in the direction of what Atrum believed to be a town hidden away from the Scourge in the Plaguelands. Atrum himself was amazed that a town had survived so close to the undead, never having been there himself to confirm it. It was the only possible destination however, so there wasn't much choice in the matter. The caravan had been traversing the worn forest path for hours, pulled by alternating groups of Gnolls. One 5-gnoll group would pull for an hour, than another 5-gnoll group would take their place while they rested. Atrum was surprised to find that he had not killed any of the gnolls the night before. One of them had been crippled however, but Gahren had assured him the damage would not be permanent. He was even more surprised to find that some members of the gnoll tribe hadn't even shown their faces in last night's fight. Hence the reason the gnolls had managed to muster enough men to pull the caravans.

They were strong creatures, these gnolls: with the strength of a wolf, the will of a man, and the endurance of a dog, they pulled the caravan without wavering, onward to an unknown destination. The caravan was composed of 3 large wagons, covered in the recycled linens of the Gnoll huts. Each one was connected to another, all of them being pulled by the gnolls at a steady pace. Atrum, Torva, and Gahren walked along side the Caravan, each with their weapons in hand. Atrum had finally reclaimed his most treasured Warblade, along with the rest of his equipment. Torva managed a pair of throwing axes, the traditional weaponry of forest trolls, whilst Gahren had his Warhammer ready at his side. Atrum led from the front, Torva on the caravan's side, and Gahren defending the rear. The journey so far had been so unnervingly uneventful that Atrum swore he was beginning to get twitchy. Gahren would have nearly had his head sliced off if not for that huge hammer of his. Atrum had, of course, apologized repeatedly after the incident, thus inspiring Gahren to take his current escort position, in the back… away from Atrum.

Rowan was inside the caravan, a person of his occupation not being of much use on the outside. He, along with the female gnolls, and a few wounded males, rid the caravans in what seemed like safety. There were 18 of them in total, 15 gnolls, including Gahren, a human, a troll, and a defective elf, as Rowan had previously explained. Apparently, the boy had been banished from the Quel'Dorei, otherwise known as the High Elves, after his parents' deaths. With the absence of his guardians, as well as prince Kael'thas, the chain of command fell to one Aigus Sunseeker who, unlike the prince, could not tolerate 'handicapped' elves. Whatever reputation his family had gained was turned to dust the moment Rowan left. So, here he was, with no where to go. In truth, joining Atrum was the best thing that had happened to him in over a year, Gods' know how he even survived that long. Atrum really wasn't sure what Rowan had to offer him, but he became interested in the man's tinkering. Perhaps one day, Atrum could learn from him, and make a gadget of his own.

_No, stop… focus on you work, Atrum_. Returning to reality, Atrum scanned the path in front of him. He was on a dirt road, with both dead and live trees, bushes, and other plants dotting his sides. The path headed downhill, with cliff walls rising up beside them. A few more minutes of walking revealed a large clearing in between the cliff walls, with a couple of rotting buildings lining the side. Atrum signaled a stop with his hand. He motioned for Torva and Gahren to come to him.

Torva arrived first, followed by Gahren "_So… wa's da plan, boss'mon?_" Torva looked from one worn building to another "_Looks kinda suspishos, no?_"

"_That's what I was thinking. Here's what we do: Gahren, you round up some gnolls and set up a defensive perimeter around the caravan_._ Above all things, the caravan is not to be touched." _Gahren nodded "_Right. Torva, you're with me_" The troll nodded as well.

"_Wha' we gonna do, boss?_" Atrum pointed towards the closest structure.

"_We're scouting the area, starting with that building_." He pointed to a large, rotting shack. "_Alright, everyone know what to do? Let's go_."

Atrum and Torva made their way towards the buildings, both with their weapons at the ready. Atrum placed his Warblade into a slot on his back, and instead pulled out the thin silvery blade he had on his back. As the duo crept into the building, the walls around them creaked as they walked by. A moment or so passed, and nothing had happened. Atrum guessed the area was clea—

"Oof!" Something had fell on top of Torva! Atrum turned to swipe at it with his blade, but there was nothing there. Torva threw off the fallen floor board pushed himself off the ground as he rubbed the back of his head in pain. "Oww.. sorry, mon, false a'lahm…" Atrum sighed. Too twitchy… too twitchy indeed…

------------

Rowan was toying around with a spring and some cut tin pieces when the caravan had suddenly come to a stop. A moment or so afterwards, he heard the sound of the gnolls shuffling about. The tinkerer poked his head out of the wagon to find his new comrades marching about, circling the caravan. Unarmed gnolls searched for weapons whilst those already prepared lined up around the wagons. Stepping out of the vehicle, he tried to make sense of what was going on. Luckily, Gahren had spotted him before he got into too much trouble.

"Elf! What are you doing?"

"G-gahren?.. What's going o—"

"Get back in the wagon! This an unsecured area and Lord Atrum has ordered all able-bodied soldiers to defend the area. The wounded, and otherwise incapable of combat, are to remain hidden in the caravan. So get moving!"

"R-right!" Gahren eyed the timid man as he scampered off. Such a frightened creature… he wondered why.

------------

They'd entered the second building now, this one even larger than the first. It looked like an old barn, obviously long out of use. Torva 's troll ears perked up and looked around for a moment, his red eyes trying to catch sight of some invisible entity. " 'Ey.. 'ey, boss'mon, joo heah dat? Sounz like.. moosic?" The troll looked around, slightly confused. "Wha'da hell? I sweah, I too ole foh dis shi'…"

"Shh.." Atrum quieted the bemused troll and listened in on the sound. It wasn't just music… song, dance, voices… all very hard to catch, but with enough silence, it could be heard. "Torva, look around for some kind of trap door or secret passage." Torva looked at him for a second before complying with the order. Atrum followed suite and they both searched the rotting barn for the source of the filtered noise. Atrum was shuffling through a pile of rotting wheat when his hand brushed against something. It was cold, round, and metallic... he cleared away some more of the dead wheat to discover a small trap door. "Torva! I found it!" The troll stopped what he was doing and rushed over to see.

"Whas'dat? C'mon, le'me take a peek, ya mon?"

"Shut up! It's just a door… stay quiet, I'm still not sure if this place is safe..."

"Yah, yah…" he sighed "Why ya gotta ruin all da fun, eh mon?"

Atrum ignored him and slowly opened the door. The resulting creak was most unpleasant. Atrum and Torva cringed, their being ears sensitive to high-pitched noises. Once it was over, Torva slapped him over the head. "Wha'da 'ell, mon! I t'ought joo say 'stay quiet!' "He lightly kicked Atrum in the side to emphasize his point.

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry, so shu-.." He stopped when he heard the sound of footsteps growing louder. ".._Shh… listen… you hear that?_"

Torva nodded "_Ja, mon…_" Atrum peaked down through the small opening below him. A shadow moved across the floor beneath him. "_There must be lights down there_…_and that means_.." The shadows moved closer... and closer… Sirren backed a way a little. In a moment, the shadow's source revealed itself to be… a night elf, and a girl at that. Atrum, mildly surprised, poked his head out to get a better look. Unfortunately…

"Intruder!" she caught sight of him and hurriedly began loading an arrow into her bow. Atrum let out and agitated sigh and put his hands up to try and calm her down.

"Hey!" said in his best 'friendly tone' "Calm down! We're not here to fight, really! We just need a place to stay that's a—"

"Shut up, wolf! You're with the Black Rock clan, aren't you! Die, heathen!" She looked furious. Atrum was rarely ever frightened, but oddly enough, he could feel his legs shaking with every passing moment. Or maybe those we're Torva's legs..?

_Wha? Orcs? Black Rock? Wolf… wait a…the helmet!_ Atrum removed his wolf helm immediately. "Wait! Wait! It's just armor, see? I'm not with the orcs or anything! Really!" This calmed her a little, but a moment later she raised her bow again, this time at Torva.

"Who's he?" she said, thrusting her bow threateningly at him. Torva didn't seem effected in the least. On the contrary, his eyes sparkled, his mouth formed a grin. The best grin a troll could manage, anyway.

"Wow.. tha's one tough babe! Da purple's a bit o' a turn off', bu'I can live wi'it fo a body like dat!" Sirren frowned, slapping his head with frustration. Now, he understood it all perfectly.

"Don't mind him." His voice was dull and blunt "He's just horny." The elf, frightened and cringing in mild disgust, nodded her head and motioned for Atrum to come down. He did as told. "So... where exactly is this place? And what would a night elf be doing here? Come to think of it… who are you?"

"I'd like to ask you the same thing! How'd you find this place?"

"Rumors. Lots of 'em. Listen, if it's okay with you, there're a whole bunch of people up top that need a place to stay. Think you can help?"

"Maybe… they aren't hostile, are they?"

"Relax!" Atrum smiled. "They're harmless."

------------

A beer mug flew overhead. "Hey! Stop throwing thos—" followed by some rum "I told you, you can't—" then a chair "No! Not the—" and four salvos of wine barrels "Nooo! Not the wine.. Awh.. I was _saving_ those! For ten years! _Ten. **Freaking. YEARS!**_" The bartender threw his hands up in their and spewed out various angry ramblings mixed with colorful words that Torva would kill to learn. In a fit of rage, the furry pandaren hopped over the bar and joined the rowdy gnolls. "**_Don't,_**" Punch "**_Break,_**" Kick "**_MY BAR!_**" Body Slam. Ironic that he said that, for his weapon of choice was a nearby stool, conveniently placed within arms length. The device was an effective bludgeon, too.

Atrum scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "Eh… sorry, I didn't know that gnolls… did this… at.. bars.. uh.." He face scrunched up hard when he tried to think of a better excuse. The night elf stared, blinked, then laughed heartily. Atrum stopped to look up. "Huh? What's so funny?" Her laughing was stifled into quiet giggles.

"Nothing, it's nothing. These guys aren't as bad as that warlock…" she trailed off, and Atrum would have asked her what she was talking about if not for the need to duck as a pickle jar soared overhead. It crashed somewhere across the room. "Uh.. let's go somewhere safer."

"I dunno, it's kinda fun out here."

"Come on!"

"Yes, mother…"

"Ugh!" she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him outside the pub and into a tunnel. "There. Stubborn bastard, you could've gotten hurt!"

"Eh, what's a few bruises between friends, right?"

"Idiot…" Atrum pushed himself up and looked about. The tunnel was lit of by a series of torches lined up against the walls. "So.. who exactly are you?" He turned around and gave quirked his brow.

"Who wants to know?" She thought it over for a moment, then answered.

"A friend."

"A friend?" She nodded back "..Don't know if you'd still call yourself that once you hear my name…" She shook her head.

"Oh come on! Stop the dramatics and say it already." Atrum sighed and hung his head before answering.

"It's... Atrum" it came out like a rushed whisper, but her elven ears caught it.

"Atrum? Sounds familiar.. hang on, you're not..? Nah, couldn't be.. unless.."

_Don't._

She came closer.

_Don't._

Another step, and she pulled his head up to meet hers.

_No! Please, don't!_

His mind was screaming in agony, but his voice was caught in his throat. She pulled his head up and looked into his eyes.

"..You're eyes.. they're.." Her actions were quick and reckless. She backed away, still staring into his golden irises, stricken with horror. "You're him! You're the werewolf! Atrum the Wolven!" He turned his face away in shame, body convulsing with sorrow. Atrum's legs buckled, unable to support him, and he fell onto his bottom. Tears dripped down his cheeks, burning with grief. The elf watched, frightened but curious. '_This creature… it… he… he's crying?_" She shivered with terror, but managed to stand, despite her weakness. Slowly, she reached for him. "Why are you.."

"No! Get_ Away!_" He stood up wildly, tears still rushing down his face. "Don't..." he shivered "Don't come near me!" Without warning, he ran down the halls as fast as he could, it didn't matter where… The ladder to the barn came into view. Without hesitation, he climbed it and ran out into the dark canyon. Stopping when he thought he'd lost her, he collapsed onto his knees. He huffed again and again, but fatigue slowly faded into sorrow. He brought his hands up to cover his face, and he cried. That night, no wolves howled.

Rowan had found him a half our later, leaning in a crouched position against one of the many rotting shacks. He was still whimpering when Rowan arrived. "Mister Atrum? Sir.. wha… what happened to you? What's wrong, sir?" What the? Why was he calling him 'sir?' Oh.. right… he'd pledged loyalty to Atrum. What a stupid thing to do… Loyalty involved 'trust' … what trust was there in this world? He'd have sooner been hunted than trusted by that wretched girl... How stupid it was to believe in such things..

"I.. it's nothing. I'm just.. cold, that's all." He acted like he was shivering. "Brrr. See? I'm just cold, that's all." His voice cracked and belied his false façade. _Damnit…_ "It's nothing, really! Just.. just go back inside, okay Rowan?..." But the elf was quiet. "…Okay?"

"Okay…" he whispered. He took a step forward, crouched down, and leaned against the shack's shoddy wall. Atrum felt.. confused. "C'mon, sir…" his voice was still quiet "Tell me what's wrong" Rowan was being stubborn. But Atrum was too weak to resist.

"…I ran away. I ran away from that girl. Because… because I—" he hiccupped, the memories stirring up more tears. "She... She heard my name, Rowan. She knew about my reputation." His words quickened as he went. "And… when she saw my eyes, she… she…" He stopped, swallowing some saliva. He relaxed, calming himself before beginning again. "…She resembled someone that I knew. A girl from the past. Her name was Daisy… and that elf, she.. she looked like her.. talked like her. Her voice, her smile.." His voice held no emotion. It was cold and detached. "Even her reaction… it was all just like her… exactly like Daisy… and that… scared me. Terrified me. I couldn't even look at her. All I could do was run… all I did was run.." Rowan rested a comforting hand on Atrum's shoulder.

"I… scare you?" The voice came from the barn. The night elf had an apologetic expression. "But.. you scare me.." Atrum snorted.

"Of course I do… I scare everyone.. no matter what I try, they'll always run away from me. Because of these eyes... these stupid eyes!" He slammed his fist into the ground, causing a dust cloud to fly up.

"..My name… My name is Rose." His pupils shrunk as the words came out. Rose?.. "Atrum, I'm sorry for the way I acted… I didn't know. I—"

"Of course not. No one knows.. no one ever knows…So why'd you come down here. If all you came for was to apologize, you're wasting your time. No apology will ever take away my curse." She stared at him, quiet, thoughtful. A step. Two steps. She came closer, and he remained silent.

"I don't know if it's okay to be friends with a werewolf, but… Being friends with a person, that'd be okay…right?" She crouched down to his level, smiling slightly. He looked up at her. Kind… so very kind. She was just like her, but… could he trust her?.. Such a stupid thing it is.. to trust is to be an idiot. And Atrum considered himself… the greatest of all idiots.

"Right.." he smiled weakly. No wolves howled.. none made a sound. But that night, all the wolves watched, leaning over the canyon walls, as their brother embraced a woman again.

--------------

Eh.. a little rough around the edges, but for the most part, I think it came out okay. )


	4. Calm Before the Storm

**Travel Log**

Atrum

_Status_: Itching for a fight.

_Inventory_: Warblade, Burnsabre, Werewolf Helm, 760 gold, Satronar studies, "A Brief Glance into the Burning Legion" by Malfurion Stormrage

_Spells_: None identified.

_Abilities_: Full Moon Metamorphosis.

Torva

_Status_: Takin' a col' showa', mon.

_Inventory_: Dual Throwing Axes, stolen beer mugs.

_Spells_: To 'ell wit joo!

_Abilities_: Ey beybe, hop in bed wit meh and I show joo sum real abilotees!

Rowan

_Status_: Still scared shitless.

_Inventory_: Toolkits, Gadgets, spring-based clip, gun powder, tubing, other unfinished parts, Various engineering books, 160 gold.

_Spells_: Level 3 Badmouthing.

_Abilities_: Inventing, Tinkering, Comforting, and Fleeing.

Gahren

_Status_: Experiencing a hangover.

_Inventory_: Warhammer, Studded Fur Armor, Chieftain's Helm, 520 Gold

_Spells_: None Identified.

_Abilities_: None Identified.

Group

_Group Morale_: Uber good.

_Machines/Vehicles_: 3 Large Wagons

_Troops_: 14 Gnolls

_Supplies_: 6 Bushels of food, Gnoll weaponry, various stolen bar-related items.

I present to you, _Wolven_!

------------

Atrum awoke when a knocking came at his door. "Come in!" Atrum was a little drowsy, but his energy was more than fully restored. _I wonder how long I was asleep... come to think of it, what time is it?_ Gahren chose to enter at that moment. He glanced at Atrum and came to his bedside, resting his large frame on a seat that shouldn't have been capable of holding him up. "Hey Gahren, do you know what time it is?" No natural light penetrated into the underground chamber, it was lit constantly thanks to the light and energy generated by magically powered crystals and various torches dotted throughout the underground village.

"It is nearing noon, sir. But anyway, I came to ask you about something, Lord Atrum." He leaned closer and lowered his voice incase of passing eavesdroppers "… I have heard from the elf that you had some trouble yesterday... is this true, sir?" The hunter sighed and scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah… T'was a rough night…" He paused for a moment, then glanced at Gahren, but looked down afterwards. He blushed slightly as he said this. "I..uh.. met a girl." At this, Gahren also stiffened up. Soon, both of the grizzled veterans of war realized that this topic of women was one that neither side was very comfortable with.

"Ah... so…" Gahren tapped his fingers together. "Perhaps we should, ah... patrol the perimeter for, um… spooks?"

"Yes, yes... good idea, Gahren. Let's patrol for spooks..." Atrum hopped out of bed and grabbed his weapons and helmet enthusiastically. Gahren stood up, and both moved through the tunnel network and at a fast pace. "So, Gahren... What are spooks?"

"I don't think it matters, sir."

"Right…right…"

--------------

Rose and Rowan had seated themselves in a portion of the bar that had managed to survive last night's festivities. "So this entire village was built underground? And everything here is networked together?"

Rose nodded in return. "Yes, basically. I wasn't here when it happened, but the head of the village said that this place had originally been a series of networked cellars, built because of the lack of space in the canyon. Soon, the Scourge came along and started wrecking nearby towns. Out of fear, everyone went underground, and they've stayed here since the start of the war. Travelers seeking refuge from the Scourge showed up and found sanctuary here. In return, they helped make life easier for the people here. For instance, a wizard and an alchemist came along and created a few sets of glowing crystals, used as a source of light. Some of those travelers, like me for instance, went so far as to stay here. That's where that Pandaren came from, if you're still wondering."

"Hah… that makes sense. Thanks for filling me in on this; I'll have to tell Atrum and Gahren about it later." Rowan had to admit, this girl was wonderful. He hadn't had a conversation this pleasant in years! Strange, that a girl like this was capable of frightening Atrum... "Hey, what exactly is this place called, anyway?"

"Well, it has this really odd name. I don't think I'll ever understand why… but, they call this place Rah Tcelel." Rowan scrunched his face and tilted his head, his mouth hanging open lazily. He mouthed the word and tested the name out. Rose snickered quietly to herself, but resisted the urge to continue and tried to save the man from making even more of a fool of himself. "Don't worry about it, we all get used to it eventually." Rowan relaxed his jaw and face and returned to speaking to Rose.

"Heh, it doesn't exactly roll of the tongue, does it? Hmm, well... I'm afraid we won't be sticking around long enough to get used to that name. Atrum said something to Gahren earlier... about searching for more Gnoll tribes. He made a promise, you see, to help redeem the gnolls…" Rowan explained to her the story of creatures. Being a night elf, she seemed more open to the idea of misunderstood creatures. "So, you see, in order to help them survive, he wants to unite them, and create some sort of gnoll alliance." Rowan scratched the back of his head. "To tell you the truth, I'm kind of worried. I mean, he's strong as hell... but I don't know if he can be much of a leader."

"Wait, strong? Well, I know he's _the_ Atrum, but… he doesn't seem that dangerous. And, sure, he's quite buff, but compared to a gnoll? They make him look like a twig."

"Is that so?" The voice came from behind her. She turned around in surprise to find said twig standing behind her, a large warblade about as long as he stood tall slung over his shoulders. "Well, little missy, I'll have you know this twig hasn't lost a fight in over ten years."

Her eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "How the hell can you carry that thing! It's bigger than you are!" She pointed at the weapon with a shaky finger "That's inhuman!"

"Yeah, so?" his answer was nonchalant. Just as casually, he flipped the large weapon into his hand and spun it around his index finger like one would do with a key chain. "You look like you've never seen a demon hunter before." Rowan's heart nearly stopped beating. The rotating blade, mere inches from his face, had frozen his body in fear.

"L-lord A-Atrum... c-could you s-s-step a-w-way, please?" Atrum noticed his proximity to the poor fellow and stepped away, apologizing afterwards. Gahren, who had walked in moments later, shook his head in disbelief, remembering the incident that occurred on their way here.

"Sorry 'bout that, Rowan." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Didn't see you there..."

"Whoa, wait, hang on a second! You say you're a demon hunter?" Rose pointed at him incredulously, "How come you still have your eyes? You're not blind or something, are you?"

Atrum shrugged. "I'm not blind, but I didn't really buy into the whole 'cut your eyes out' fad… Besides, being part-wolf, my senses are heightened anyway. And in a worse case scenario, there's always a spell for spectral sight. Night Elf demon hunting differs greatly from the demon hunting that ended up being practiced by the Quel'dorei. This version focuses less on tradition, and is open to plenty of new ideas, so things really hit off here."

"Ah… Interesting. I've never seen a demon hunter native to Azeroth before, though..."

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly common. I had to learn to become one on my own, out of books, because there weren't any demon hunters around from where I came from. Sometimes high elven demon hunters would pass through here because they heard about me. Thus far… I think I'm the only human that's attempted demon hunting."

"I see... I guess that makes sense…" Rose examined him carefully. His golden eyes still sent chills down her spine. Atrum felt an uneasiness growing as she kept staring at him. He looked down at his feet and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Finally, realizing she was staring, Rose let out a small gasp and looked away. "S-sorry... It's just, you see, your eyes, they…I'm still not used to them, y'know?…"

"…Yeah… I know."

The passing silence worried Rowan, having witnessed Atrum's mental breakdown just last night. "H-hey, um, didn't you guys say you had something to do?" At least it would take his mind off of this, thought Rowan.

Gahren was quick to seize Rowan's bait "Yes, that's correct. Lord Atrum and I had decided it would be wise to patrol the perimeter. Shall we get going, my lord?" The last portion was slightly forced, but Atrum got the hint. Without another word, he made his way back down the corridor, looking down all the while, with Gahren trailing not too far behind. Rowan sighed but a second after they left the room. He checked on Rose and found her looking down at the table, contemplating something.

"What's wrong?" Slowly, she turned her gaze on the doorway Atrum had just left through. When she spoke, Rowan could detect the feeling of guilt in her words.

"Atrum's a nice guy, despite the stories, but… it feels like I'm just a nuisance to him. An unhealthy reminder of everything he wants to forget... Rowan, help me get on his good side, please? At least until you guys have to go, okay?"

Rowan was dumbstruck. What would he know about Atrum? He just met the man three days ago! But each time he looked at Rose's pleading face, the thought of refusing her made him feel like rubbish. "I... damnit… Okay! Okay! I'll help you… but I make no guarantees..."

"Yes! Thank you, Rowan!" She gave him a quick hug, and he was left blushing a bright red whilst the girl ran off. Once more, Rowan sighed.

"What the hell is wrong with this place?..."

--------------

"What the hell is wrong with this place?"

Atrum maneuvered through the brightly lit halls of the underground village, making various lefts and rights in a lost state of confusion. He stopped abruptly and looked around. "It all looks the same, like a freaking maze…" He stopped to ponder on where to go next. Gahren managed to find him through his scent, but was still as lost as his companion. Giving up all hope, Atrum sighed and leaned against the neighboring wall.

"Lost?" The voice came from down the hall. Atrum and Gahren approached it cautiously. The host of the voice slowly came into view, revealing itself to be a male night elf warlock.

"Yeah, actually. We were trying to find the way out and... well... here we are." Atrum's voice trailed off into a mumble. The warlock chuckled and gave him a pat on the back.

"Don't sweat it, kid. All the newcomers get lost often. Here, follow me." He began leading them through the maze of corridors. "So, who might you and your canine companion be?"

"What did you—!" Gahren move closer to their guide, but Atrum pulled an arm up to stop him. He motioned for Gahren to 'let it go.' The Gnoll warrior waved it off, but not before sending the warlock a quick glare. Thankfully, it went unnoticed.

"We're… just a couple of mercenaries. You know the whole deal, right? Just trying to get by from one day to the next…" Atrum nodded to himself, hoping it would be a convincing lie. After all, what else would better explain a human traveling with a gnoll? Atrum doubted that the truth would actually sound convincing at all. Besides, the less people knew about him, the more comfortable he'd be around them.

"Ah, I see… Yeah, I was kinda like you two once, drifting from one town to the next. But then a certain beauty caught my eye, and I've been chasing her around for a while. I finally found her taking refuge here. It's been two weeks since I arrived. Oh, my apologies, the name's Ferdre Moondagger, warlock extraordinaire! Nice to meetcha ...uh…"

"It's Mike! Yeah, uh... name's Mike. And this here is... Fang Furmountain! Yeah..." Atrum could feel the chills triggered by an icy glare being stared down his back, but chose to ignore it. They'd be gone by tomorrow, and it's not like this guy would _follow_ them! Besides, Gahren would forgive him… eventually.

"Okay…" Ferdre's eyes glowed curiously, brows peaking in interest "Interesting names you've got there… Got a last name, 'Mike'?"

"Nope…" Again, he felt Gahren's cold stare upon his spine.

"I see… That's a warblade you've got there, isn't it? I thought only demon hunters carried those." His voice hinted at his suspicions.

'_Damn, he's onto us..._' thought Atrum. "Uh, yeah, that's right; I ripped this off a dead one." He received another curious glance from the warlock, "Wait, no, it's not like that! He was dead when I got there, honestly! I figured he wouldn't need 'em anymore, so…" '_This lie is getting out of hand..._' Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, sweat that Gahren's sharp eyes took notice of.

"It's true." The Gnoll spoke up, if only to keep his identity safe as well. "I was there with him when he found it. It was during a vacation in Kalimdor." With that, he remained silent, hoping Atrum could take care of the rest.

"Vacation? I didn't know mercenaries took vacations."

"Well, we do." They neared the exit, and the conversation was dwindling down anyway, so Atrum saw no reason to provide Ferdre with anymore intelligent conversation. Ferdre seemed to have taken notice of this as well.

"I see… Well, here's the exit. Good luck doing whatever you're doing!" He showed the two the way up the ladder, waved them off, and then went back on his away. As soon as they were out of sight completely, Ferdre grinned greedily to himself and went in the direction they came from. '_Alright, now to find my lovely Rose and romance her endlessly… mwahaha... You will be mine yet, my darling Rose!_' He cackled quietly to himself, choosing to ignore the stares coming his way.

------------

"Achoo!"(1)

"Bless you! Do you have a cold or something, Rose?" Rowan searched in his pockets for his handkerchief, found it cleaned and ready for use, and handed it to the sentinel.

"No, not really... weird. Night elves are supposed to be immune to illnesses. It was probably some dust or something. But, thank your Rowan." She took the handkerchief with an appreciative smile.

"Huh, for what?"

"For being polite. Hardly anyone around here is polite anymore…"

"Ah... well, you're welcome. You know, the Pandarens have an old saying that when you sneeze, it means someone's talking about you."

"Oh please, that's just silly, Rowan. Here, go get some tea from that cabinet over there." She pointed to one of the various wooden cabinets in her room. Apparently, permanent members of the village were given more spacious rooms, and hers was certainly no unfurnished closet. She had everything from lights, to a small, personal kitchen, to another small, personal restroom, a large and well-fluffed bed, and of course, wooden chairs, stools and tables scattered across the room.

"Um, this one, right?" The blood elf pointed to one of the cupboards.

"No, no, it's two down on the right. Yes, that one. The tea should be on the upper level."

"Found it!" He pulled out a small jar with some crushed leaves in it.

"Good, there should also be some sugar on the lower level of that cabinet."

Rowan rummaged though small cupboard again, pulling out and reinserting various jars and cans of 'who-knew-what'. Finally, came across a white, powdery substance, tasted it, and nodded approvingly. "Yeah, it's here." He took it as well and made his way to the young night elf.

Rose had already grabbed a pair of tea cups and had some warm water reading while he'd gone for the tea. Within a few minutes, both were sipping on their cups, going over various conversation topics.

"So... nice weather we're having?"

Rose chuckled "Why yes, what fine weather we're having here with our artificial light and thick, humid air!" Rowan smiled back at her half-heartedly.

"Yeah, I'm no stranger to sarcasm either… So… um…"

"Yes?"

"...Tell me about yourself?"

"Oh, um, okay… Let's see, where to start?..." Rose mulled it over in her head, and eventually decided on something. "Well, I—"

"Ey, sexy!" Down the corridor and through the doorway came stumbling everyone's favorite troll. "Wha's a babe like joo doin' wis dis foo, eh?" A beer mug was raised in his right hand, half full, and a chair leg in the other, probably torn off during one of Torva's various bar fights. "C'mon, come wit' me, baby. I take joo foh a crazy ride!"

Rowan's face was stuck in a bemused pattern. "Is it just me, or has his speech become more articulate?"

"Ey, mon, it's da beeya. Beeya do miriko's foh us trolls."

Rowan shook his head in disbelief. He asked himself again just why he'd agreed to travel with these people. '_No, that's not right, I didn't agree to go with them... In fact, they never really gave me an offer. Atrum was just… there. And Torva… Torva was the one that actually dragged me along, wasn't he? I must have subconsciously accepted this, because there's no way I'd have signed up for this voluntarily…_'

"I think I'll pass on that offer…"

"Aw, don' gimme dat, baby! Wut have I eva don to joo, eh?"

"Wash your mouth, cut your nails, take a bath, and maybe then we'll talk."

"..Eh…I—Oof!" Torva didn't have time to respond for Rose had taken advantage of his moment of confusion and shoved him out of the room. She shut the door, set the lock, dusted her hands, and returned to her seat.

"..You weren't serious about that, were you?"

She shrugged in response. "It got him out the door, didn't it?"

------------

The duo had traveled up the canyon road with Atrum once again in the lead. Gahren thought over the day's events in his head. The man in front of him was supposed to lead his people to salvation. But right now, he was still dealing with the effects of an apparent mental breakdown. Not good at all, it would have probably brought morale down had his gnoll brethren have been sober. "Lord Atrum, this issue with the female…"

"Huh? Oh... It's nothing, Gahren."

"Sir…not to be rude, but your little 'nothing' cause seems to be causing everyone some general chaos. Perhaps it would be best to talk over it now…"

"You're not going to leave it alone, are you?"

"No, sir."

Atrum let out a heavy sigh. He let Gahren catch up before beginning. "See, it's like this… She looks and acts a lot like a girl I used to know…" His eyes scanned the end of the forest before them as they reached the top of the small canyon. "To be honest, I didn't expect to see that face again in my life… and it came as a shock when I did."

Gahren nodded in response. But something quirked his interest about the girl of Atrum's past. "My lord, what of the other girl? Why did you never expect to see her again?" Silence followed. "…Sir?"

Atrum took a seat under the shade of a nearby tree and motioned for Gahren to follow. "It's not a story I like to share, Gahren. But... I can make this one exception. It happened little more than five years ago, about a month before I left my home, near Hammerfall. That girl and I, we'd been best friends since I was six. Her name was Violet. When she turned twelve and I, thirteen, she'd left with her mother and father because of her father's business. They returned when I was sixteen. Naturally, I was glad, she was one of my few 'friends' and the time. But about a month later, she and her family were also sucked into the troubles of the werewolf that had been wandering the countryside. I, being the only demon hunter and capable freelancer in the area, was paid to go out and hunt it down. Seeing as it was the same wolf that killed my folks, I did it for free.

"But then, after I returned, the wolf's curse started to take effect. Rumors started being passed around about how there was a second werewolf, all that sort of rubbish. The truth was that the new wolf was really just me under the effect of the wolf's curse. Since the curse wasn't full-blown, I had never fully changed into the form of a werewolf, but no one had ever spotted be before then, so it had assumed that there was just another wolf. I was hoping I could keep it that way until I'd left town.

"Unfortunately for me, it didn't work out that way. On the night of the 11th anniversary of my parents' deaths… there was a full moon. I had little control over myself that night, and struggled to get away from the town before I hurt someone. But on my way out, I was spotted by Violet and her family. They had decided to 'solve the wolf problem' by themselves, since I had denied it over and over again every time they asked. When they saw me, I ran opposite of them as fast as I could. But they caught up somehow, I must have been tired from trying to get away from the town, I don't really know. Anyway.. This part gets a little fuzzy…

"It was utter chaos for everyone when they caught me. Violet was more than shocked, to say the least. When they chained me up and locked me in their cellar, the only times she ever came to visit was to bring me bread or water. Even then… she never said anything. That was probably what hurt the most out of everything..."

"The story is very intriguing, sir, but it still doesn't answer my—"

"Hold your horses, Gahren, I'm getting there. At least this way, you won't need to ask me as many questions." When he was sure the gnoll chieftain would refrain from anymore interruptions, Atrum continued with is tale. "One night, while the moon was full, someone had opened up the cellar doors, but I couldn't tell who it was. When the moonlight shined in, I regained much of my lost strength and managed escape, reclaiming all my belongings along the way.

"During my escape, I saw her standing in the doorway that would have lead me to freedom. I should have been glad, but the look on her face had me thinking otherwise. It was the same look Rose had given me… When I had approached her, she'd backed away and cowered from me. That was the last straw for me… I told her off, said she should've been ashamed of herself for acting that way to someone that had trusted her with their life. That was the last thing I'd ever said to her.

"After that, I stuck around in hiding for a few more months, preparing for my journey out on the road. After another four months, I left town, and didn't come back until four years later. The Scourge had ruined the place... everything from the orphanage I'd lived in to the damned barracks I visited for sparring practice. I even went so far as to check for bones, but then I realized how stupid of me that was. The scourge would have carried them off, had they been dead. I never saw them again, and now every time I think about it, I feel guilty for what I said to her…"

"…It's best not to dwell on the past, my Lord." The young hunter smiled back at his subordinate.

"It's best not to do a lot of things, Gahren. But that never stops one from doing it anyway…" He received a small chuckle in response. Another five minutes of silence followed. Atrum thought it was about time to get going. But when he turned to look at Gahren, he found the old one staring off in the distance. "What's wrong, Gahren?"

"I…I smell death. It's coming from the further down the path."

"More like undeath." Atrum narrowed his eyes. "But why would the Foresaken send patrols here? They're not supposed to know about this place..."

"Hmm…" Gahren raised his warhammer and began heading in the direction of the forest "Perhaps we should investigate further." He stopped momentarily to make sure Atrum was following him. "Coming, sir?"

Atrum looked up at the sky. It was still noon. "Yeah, but… let's take it easy, okay? If it looks like more than we can handle, we turn tail and run, got it?"

"But of course."

------------

"So… how come you're so shy all the time?" He'd been expecting this question from Rose, but Rowan had done little to prepare for it. "Erm, well… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you. It's a little embaressing though…" Rose smiled encourangingly. "Go on, I'm listening"

"..Promise you won't laugh?"

"I promise."

"Because, you know, if you want to laugh, it's okay.. I mean, people laugh all the time and it's no big deal and, I mean I could tolerate it if I really had too and you—"

"Rowan! Just.. I promise I won't laugh, okay?"

"O..okay. Well… let's just say that I'm a… 'defective' elf." Rowan struggled with the word. "..Excuse me?" She hoped it wasn't going in the direction she thought it was. Topics like these made her feel very uncomfortable. After all… night elves didn't talk about or do these things very often… it wasn't really required of them. "Yeah, I, you know, I… I can't... 'work my magic'."

"..Oh. So…" Rose tried to phrase it carefully so as not to sound offensive "You can't make it 'go'?" Rowan looked down, slightly ashamed. "No… I can't use a staff or a rod the way a normal elf could either. People always said I had the energy for it, but never the ability." Rowan nodded to emphasize his point. "Oh...oh my…" Rose was blushing furiously at this point, whilst the other elf remained oblivious. "Yes, it's made me unpopular with certain people. I haven't had much luck in my life…"

"By Elune, you poor thing! It must feel terrible!"

"It does…"

"All the things you'll never see…"

"Yeah…"

"And all the things you'll never feel…"

"Yeah…?"

"And all the women that you'll never be with.."

"Yea—Wait, what!"

"D-didn't you say you were 'defective'?" Rose looked at him curiously, her face still blushing a dark purple. "Yes! I'm a defective elf, I can't use magic!" Rose's pupils shrunk. "..M-magic? _That's_ what you were talking about?" It was Rowan's turn to stare curiously at Rose "..Yes. What did you think I was talking about?"

"N-nothing!" She brought her hands up in protest. "It's just that… with all this talk of rods and staves… and you being a 'defective' elf…" Rowan's eyes widened as the idea began to sink in.

"No! NO! Dear heavens, NO! That's not it at all!"

"Yes, I understand, I'm sorry but I—"

"That's—No, that's just wrong!"

"Okay, okay!" Once again, Rose held her hands up, this time trying to calm Rowan from having another fit. "So then… _that_ part of you is fully functional, right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. I mean, I haven't really tried to use it like that.. I haven't had the chance to.. I mean, I'm sure it works.. it should work.. I still get those.. those.."

"Those what?" Rose bared a sly grin.

"Uh…uh... I... those… uh… excuse me!" Without another word, he darted straight to the Rose's personal restroom. The sentinel did her best to stifle her giggles. She failed miserably.

------------

The hunter and the chieftain made their way through the brush, staying close to the vegetation for cover. Atrum peeked out of the bushes to get a better view of the patrolling undead. Four abominations, three meat wagons, and eight ghouls. Atrum wasn't too impressed.

"Hey Gahren, how tough would you say you are?"

"I can take on two Infernals, sir."

"That'll do. I'll take care of the abominations, you can take the meat wagons. The ghouls are first-come, first serve." And the he smirked… "..First one to finish buys the loser a beer." The large gnoll smirked in response.

"You're on…_sir_"

Without warning, both barreled into mad sprints toward their assigned targets. Atrum reached his opponent first. The abomination, normally in a retarded state, but now completely dumbstruck, was helplessly left frozen in place as Atrum pulled his warblade onto the creature. The beast tore in two and fell limp to the floor as Atrum moved on to his next victim.

Gahren was fairing just as well. His warhammer crushed through a meat wagon with a sickening crack. "Ugh…disgusting…" He wiped the blood of his face and continued on while shaking off a particularly annoying ghoul that simply refused to die…again. Finally, the damned creature collided with his weapon and the impact sent the creature off on course set to eclipse the sun.

At that moment, Atrum was having difficulty with the two remaining Abominations, the last one having been torn through as well. They had him cornered, and unfortunately for him, the sun was in his eyes. But the conveniently timed eclipse had given him the edge he needed. Without a second to waste, Atrum aimed and flung his warblade like a boomerang, effectively chopping off the second monster's head. While the boomerang was on its return course, Atrum drew his blade and swung at the other creature. The beast parried his blade with its hooked hand, but the distraction had bought the hunter enough time for the kill. Jumping to the side, he watched in grim satisfaction as the boomerang-blade returned, hitting the dirt and taking the creature with it.

Though retrieving his weapon proved a disgusting process, Atrum managed to gather his wits and move on to slaying ghouls. Gahren had just finished up with his last meat wagon when Atrum begun his ghoul hunting. Together, the duo made short work of the remaining ghouls, save one. It was far off at the edge of the forest, preparing to scamper off.

"Quick, chase it! That thing'll inform its superiors!" The two followed the beast as quick as they could. Gahren began lagging behind, though Atrum managed to stay his pace. At one point, the trees started to look dry, dead, and hollow. They were nearly at the edge of the forest, and Atrum knew he could no longer avoid it. He readied his warblade, stopping to take aim, and let it loose on the minor undead. The blade closed in and within moments, had taken off one of its legs. But the beast continued moving forward, now with only three limbs.

"Oh hell no…" By the time Atrum reached his fallen blade, the walking corpse had made it towards its companions at the far side of the clearing behind the forest. There was nothing he could do now. The hunter turned back and sprinted toward the canyon.

------------

"Ugh… I wunda what dey be doin in deh… Dat damn fairy has all da luck…" Torva was sitting against the outside of Rose's room, pondering on what Rowan was doing within the very same room. His mind was going mad with jealousy. Honestly, what did the elf have that he didn't? They shy thing? Torva could be shy! Maybe it was the glowing eyes. Well, fuck that, he wasn't going to act like some fairy-boy(2) just to get a woman… "..okey, mebbe I would… the purpa gurl waz pretty sexy…"

Ferdre, strolling down to meet his precious Rose, had the unfortunate pleasure of finding a rather unpleasant troll sitting in front of his love's doorway. "Excuse me, sir, but… what in the name of Elune are you doing on my dear Rose's doorstep?"

"I waitin' foh her to open da door, mon."

"…You're awfully articulate for a troll, aren't you?"

"Trus' me, i's da beer. So why joo heeya, mon?" Torva did his best to attempt a polite conversation. Maybe it could take his mind off Rose… "Actually, I'm here to see what my darling is doing right now" …but soon failed, because… "Well, if ya ask meh, I think what she probably doin' is mah good friend right now…" and so ends another attempt at conversation with Torva.

"What?"

"Yeah. Sucks, doesn' it? 'Specially wen it shud be _me_ in deh.."

"Damnit, move over!"

"Hey, watchoo—Oof!" For the second time that day, the troll was pushed aside by a night elf. "Ow, mah butt…_damned spoiled fairies…_"

Paying no attention to the injured troll, the warlock blasted the lock off the door with a spell and rushed inside to halt his worst nightmare… "Darling, I must insist that you—Oof!" …but was pushed aside by a rather large gnoll within moments of entry.

Rose and Rowan stood up immediately. "Gahren! Ferdre?"

"Gahren! I thought your name was Fang!"

"Shut up, fairy, now's not the time." He kicked the fallen warlock to the side, and cleared the doorway, allowing passage to one bloodied demon hunter.

Rose gasped at the sight of him "Atrum! Dear goddess, what happened to you?"

"Relax, it's not my blood. Listen, I need to know where the head of this village is."

"What, but why?..."

"The Forsaken are coming this way. I don't know when they'll get here or what they'll bring, but we need to prepare. Big time." Atrum had his helmet off and was looking straight into her eyes. The chilling stare sent shivers through her body, forcing her to look away.

"Alright… follow me." He nodded silently and, with Gahren, followed her lead. Torva, spotting them leave, decided it was better to follow them than sit and sulk in his misery. Rowan was still stuck in shock before he realized everyone had left, and quickly scampered off to follow.

And off to the side, trampled and forgotten, lay a warlock with a growing vengeance.

------------

XD! Night Elf abuse! YES! Haha..wow, this chapter was way longer than I'd intended it to be. Anyway, I hope you liked it. And now, to explain another little fun fact:

(1): This is actually a Japanese saying, some of you may have heard of it.

(2): Credit goes to BarkingMadArthur for this one. It's the best insulting description of a night elf that I've hear thus far.

Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! It'll bring you more chapters.


	5. Countdown to Zero

I apologize for the delay in the completion of this chapter. School sucks and a history teacher is a dick.

**Note:** A number in parenthesis is connected to an explanation at the end of the fanfic. This is to explain some inside jokes, or sources of jokes that may or may not come up in the story. Also, I've decided to add a level indicator for each person in the Travel Log. This is not the WoW level system, it's the

Warcraft III level system. This does not, however, limit the amount of spells and abilities a character can possess, nor the strength of the spell, nor the level of a character.

**Travel Log**

Atrum – Hero Level 7

_Status_: Pissed.

_Inventory_: Warblade, Burnsabre, Werewolf Helm, 760 gold, Satronar studies, "A Brief Glance into the Burning Legion" by Malfurion Stormrage

_Spells_: None identified.

_Abilities_: Full Moon Metamorphosis, 'Boomerang' Throw.

Torva – Hero Level 3

_Status_: Fukin' fairies…

_Inventory_: Dual Throwing Axes, stolen beer mugs.

_Spells_: Level 4 Conversation Killer

_Abilities_: Beer-induced articulate speech, Troll Regeneration.

Rowan – Er.. 'Hero' Level 1

_Status_: Confused.

_Inventory_: Toolkits, Gadgets, spring-based clip, gun powder, tubing, other unfinished parts, Various engineering books, 160 gold.

_Spells_: Um, yeah, I'm still defective… but not in _that_ way.

_Abilities_: Inventing, Tinkering, Comforting, and Fleeing.

Gahren – Hero Level 5

_Status_: Brooding.

_Inventory_: Warhammer, Studded Fur Armor, Chieftain's Helm, 520 Gold

_Spells_: None Identified.

_Abilities_: None Identified.

Rose- Hero Level 2

_Status_: Also Confused.

_Inventory_: Bow, Quiver of Arrows.

_Spells_: None Identified.

_Abilities_: Shadowmeld.

Group

_Group Morale_: Semi-high.

_Machines/Vehicles_: 3 Large Wagons

_Troops_: 14 Gnolls

_Supplies_: 6 Bushels of food, Gnoll weaponry, various stolen bar-related items.

Enjoy.

------------

Rose knocked on the door to the village head's dwelling. A young red haired woman, possibly just over eighteen years of age, shrieked slightly after discovering the mismatched group upon her doorstep. "R-Rose? Wh-who are these p-people?" Her eyes traveled from Atrum to Torva, slowed upon Rowan, and finally fixated themselves on the towering figure that was Gahren Silvertooth. Had she not have done her business just a moment ago, the poor girl would have wet herself.

"Um, Melanie… this is my friend, Atrum." She motioned toward him "He needs to talk to Mr. Sigmus. It's urgent, so may we please enter?"

'_Atrum ... Why does that sound familiar?_' Melanie shrugged it off and complied with their request. "S-sure, follow me.." She led them to the rather spacious living room and asked them to wait patiently while she fetched her father.

Torva decided to strike up a conversation… "Woooooh! Di'joo see da curves on dat babe?!" He kneeled, brought two hands together and threw them up in joy. "Deeyah ancestoz, I wud like to thank joo foh this bountiful hahvest! I'mma totalleh respec' joo n' stuff."(1) He followed up with that by bringing his palms down to the floor in respect to nothing in particular. Melanie was blushing furiously when she walked back in to find a forest troll kissing the ends of her shoes.

"Ah! Get him off me!" She shrieked. Rose and Atrum rushed to her rescue, pulling Torva away as best as they could, considering he was almost twice as tall as both of them. The troll struggled a little, but decided it wasn't worth the effort and letting himself hang lazily instead. Doing so resulted in Atrum dropping him to the floor without a second thought.

"I'm beginning to regret letting you tag along…"

"Everywon doz evenchoo'lee, mon." Rose and Rowan both frowned upon hearing him. "Wha? Wha's wrong, mon? Oh… yah, yah, da beeyah iz wearin' off, izn' it?" Slowly, they nodded at him. The troll scratched his head, sighed, and went to take a seat in the corner of the room, mumbling something along the lines of "_Ah nee' moh a'cohol…_"

"Ah, uh, um… Mr. Sigmus will see you now…" Mildly frightened and still uncertain of her decision in letting the group in, Melanie regretfully stepped aside to let the group through. Staying polite was rather difficult when a there was a giant Gnoll nearby that looked like he was about ready to kill you.

The group walked through the doorway and down the short corridor to a rather large bedroom. An aging man was lying in his bed. He sat up when he noticed the group enter his room. "Oh, what a rather large group! Melanie, why didn't you tell me we had so many guests? I would have tidied myself up a bit more if I knew…" He shuffled about in his bed, attempting to fix up his appearance. Afterwards, he turned back to his guests with slight embarrassment "Ah, my apologies, where are my manners? My name is Garth Sigmus, nice to meet you all. Now… I was told a Mr. Atrum wished to speak with me?"

"That would be me, sir." Atrum, already at the head of the group, stepped forward for once and gave him a small bow.

"Bowing, eh? I haven't met someone who did that in years… Where are you from, lad? And what business do you have with me?"

"I'm from a part of former Hammerfall, sir, but that's not important right now… I have reason to believe that the Forsaken will be attacking this village soon." He paused to let the message sink in. "…I'm willing to help your village as best as I can. My force of 18, including myself, will gladly fight to protect your people."

"Indeed," Gahren made his way forward "the Silvertooth tribe has yet to prove its honor to Azeroth. If this is what is asked of us, so be it. We shall stay by your and Lord Atrum's side until the end, just as we have sworn." Rose smirked at the large and powerful Gnoll. '_It'd be nice if some of those druids back home would grow some balls and act like him for once_,' she thought.

"Thank you for your courage, bold warriors. But even with your aid, Rah Tcelel would be overrun. We don't have nearly enough troops to withstand a battle with the undead… A hero figure would nice to have around…" He paused, looking around the room once more. "Hmm… My dear boy, what did you say your name was? Full name, please."

How curious… Atrum quirked a brow up at the man's question. "Atrum Lupus Everto, sir. Why do you ask?"

For a moment, the old one's eyes lit up. He jumped out of bed, much to everyone's surprise. "Everto? You don't say… and what exactly do you do for a living, Mr. Everto?"

"Erm… Demon hunter, sir. I hunt demons... for a price, of course." The hunter was starting to get anxious. Rah Tcelel was about to be attacked and this man still managed the time to interrogate him!

"I see. Come closer, lad…" Atrum did as told, and Sigmus motioned him to come closer until he was within half a foot of the man. "_Lad… rumor has it that you're a werewolf_._ Is this true?_"

This took Atrum by surprise. He stumbled over his words as he struggled to come up with an explanation "Wha—I—well—It's like this, you see—I mean—the thing is—it's more like—I…Yeah, that's about right." But to no avail. The old man wasn't going to budge.

"I see…then I suspect you took note of the fact that moonlight is blocked by the cliff walls, correct?"

"Ye..yes, that's right. It's only a minor setback, I assure you—"

"—Wrong!" Sigmus flared with new vigor. "Lad, you're a w_erewolf!_ The only thing that could possibly save us now! When the Forsaken attack, they'll be swarming down the only paths in and out of this canyon." He flailed his arms around like a madman. "You'll never get a chance to change forms under those conditions, there simply won't be enough room!" Sigmus huffed, quickly slinking back into bed, exhausted from the rant.

Atrum was slow to answer, still stunned by the man's actions. "…I know that, sir."

Sigmus frowned. "That's not enough, lad. A plan is what you need."

The others remained silent. Gahren had been paying attention to the entire conversation. The man was right, the situation posed a problem. If the city's forces went above the cliffs, they'd be out in the open and easy prey. But if they remained in the canyon, they'd be trapped. Hiding wasn't an option either. They'd be found out eventually, what with all the rumors of an underground town in circulation. Their best bet would be to set up a trap for at least one of the paths out of the canyon. "_That would weaken their forces and give Lord Atrum the chance to become a Howler…_" But would it be enough? Gahren could only speculate. At the very least, he would announce his idea. "Lord Atrum, I have a suggestion. I believe we should set up a trap on at least one of the paths up the canyon. This could weaken one column of enemy forces and open up a path for you, my lord."

"Hm… That's a good idea, Gahren. Problem is, what trap would we set up? And where are we going to find the materials?" Gahren shrugged, leaving Atrum to turn to the old man for ideas. "You wouldn't happen to have anything in stock, would you Mr. Sigmus?"

"I'm afraid not, lad. At least, nothing practical."

Atrum remaind silent, pondering over possible traps. It came a surprise to him when it Torva spoke up next. "'Ey, mon, I got's an idea. Rememba dat ole shed up top? Ja, I think we cou' take da wood offa dat, and all da otha ole buildin's, an poh sum alcohol on em, tho I'd hate ta waste it all... Eneewayz, so we poh da alchohol on 'em, then we scatta em along da roads, mebbe put sum otha burnables 'round those too. Then, when da dead guys get heeyah, we light 'em up wit' a big boom. So wa'joo think?" He looked about expectantly.

Rowan's eyes nearly rolled out their sockets. "You mean you're not an idiot?!"

"Course n—'Ey! Wha'da'ell joo mean, '_no'an idio'_'?" Thus, Blood Elf and Forest Troll clashed in another verbal battle, with Torva losing out of sheer lack of vocabulary. Rose and Gahren, did their best to ignore them. Melanie, who'd been required to stay and care for Mr. Sigmus, had never felt more insecure her entire life.

"Actually," began Atrum "that's a pretty good idea. We could light up all the dried up wood down there, even without the added alcohol, although it'd be a nice addition and would certainly speed up the process… but it still wouldn't be fast enough to light up all the wood…"

Luckily, Rose had a solution. "Well, we could always use some flame-tipped arrows. Here," she reached into her quiver and pulled out an arrow. The arrow heads were all covered in black soot. "They're small, but fast. A few of these will get the job done, provided that they hit the right spot."

"Yes, good idea, Rose! I can spare a few archers for that as well." Sigmus clapped his hands together and motioned for Melanie to come closer as he discussed his plans with her.

"Yeah… this might work." The demon hunter failed to hold back a grin "This might actually work."

"Good to hear!" Sigmus shooed off Melanie, and then turned back to the hunter "Mr. Everto, I'd like you to get to work on this immediately. I've asked Melanie to put the town on alert. She's also going to notify them that you, Mr. Everto, will be in command for the time being. So get going, Lad. It doesn't look like we'll have enough time to fully prepare for an attack."

Atrum stared at Sigmus for a while. "Don't worry, old man. I'll take care of everything." He smiled in return. "Just get some rest… you look like you need it."

"But of course, but of course. Good luck, Mr. Everto. Now hurry up! My town will be in ruin at this rate!"

Atrum pulled Rowan and Torva apart for a moment, and gave them their orders before heading out himself, with Gahren close behind. Rose, however, stayed behind and watched them go with worry. "Mr. Sigmus…"

"Hm, what's that, Rose?"

"Sir, that plan… even with the addition of the trap, it still depends entirely on Atrum."

"Hmm… I suppose it does."

Rose stared intently at the floor, expecting more to his answer, but nothing came. She peaked at Sigmus, only to find him playing with a tuff of his own hair.

"Sir! This doesn't seem fair to Atrum! What we're asking of him could kill him! Aren't you the least bit concerned?"

"Oh? Attached to the boy already, Rose?" Rose was taken aback by his cold reply. "Atrum is just as likely to die as you or me or anyone else in this town. Since he's staying here, he's just as responsible for defending the town. I may even go so far as to say that he's the sole reason for why the undead are attacking. So it seems entirely fair to me to have him lead the defense against the enemy."

"But—"

"No but's. We've already decided… I'm sorry, Rose, but the survival of the town is more important than the life of one man. A cursed man, no less."

Unable to argue further, the night elf nodded her head in defeat, keeping her eyes off the old man. She went without another word, leaving Sigmus to ponder on his actions.

------------

The gnolls worked with residents of the underground community to set up the trap, spreading alcohol about old dried pieces of wood, gathering up as much flammable material as possible. A small number of archers were spread and hidden atop the canyon's cliffs, armed with flame-tipped arrows.

While the preparations were made, Atrum examined a group of large boulders encrusted near one of the entryways of the canyon. He summoned Gahren to his side, an idea coming together in his head.

"Hey, Gahren, do we have any explosives handy?"

"Perhaps. Why?"

"Look here," he pointed his thumb at the stones in the ground "a few bombs could turn these babies into rolling death." Gahren examined the placement of the boulders more closely, and nodded upon agreement.

"It truly is a convenient set up. I'll begin work on it right away, my Lord."

------------

Rose caressed the young owl at her side. Pieor cooed at the touch of her hands, and snuggled closer. "…I hate fights…Don't you, too?"

"You don't know the half of it." Rose was surprised to find Atrum leaning against her doorway. Everything but his wolf helm was on him. He held the former under his right arm. Taking two steps forward, he plastered a tired smile on his face and looked into her eyes. "Scared?"

"A little… I've lived here for a few years. It's not much time for a Night Elf, but once you get comfortable, it's hard to let go of any place you've been to. Hey, shouldn't you be helping with the traps?"

He shook his head. "No, we're almost done with those. All that's left is to organize the troops and get into position, and Gahren is taking care of that." He paused and looked over the girl before him. She was easily orders of magnitude beyond his years, yet she still possessed all that he would eventually come to lose. It would be a shame if all that ended here. "Hey Rose… If you want, you can sit this one out." He heard nothing but the cooing of the bird in response. There was no reason to prod any further, Atrum could already tell she didn't like where things were going.

With another exhausted sigh, he turned and made his way back out the door, but stopped once and turned back for one final glance. "Don't worry. I'll see you soon. Promise."

------------

Drums of bone thundered, howls and cries of anguish screamed across bile infested fields. The Foresaken marshaled their forces; Lady Windrunner herself had chosen to lead. The dark queen eyed the forest with curiosity. Raiding the town was her main reason for attacking, but what had really piqued her interest was the same thing that led her to the hidden village. She thought it may have just been a lack of brains on the ghoul's part, but the possibility of 'enlisting' a demon hunter was too hard to pass up. This one had seemed exceptionally powerful, from what she heard.

If memory served her correctly, Arthas himself was nearly slain by a demon hunter, but the hunter had taken him on alone. Granted, that same hunter was Illidan Stormrage, but it made little difference to her. If Sylvanis were to have any hope of claiming the Scourge for herself, she'd need a trump card. For the time being, she believed that trump card was just a few miles away. She couldn't help but lick her lips. The thought made her mouth water. _Power_ made her mouth water.

"My Lady," a lich found his way to her side. He bowed as best as any creature without a spine could. "Your forces are ready. When shall we commence the attack?"

Her grin grew wide "Now."

------------

She cuddled onto her pet owl a bit more. Fear does things to people. Rose had been in battles before, but in one of this magnitude, she wasn't of much use on the field of combat. A skirmish, sure. A battle, perhaps. A siege? No way. Rose was no Gahren, nor was she an Atrum. She couldn't run out there and have ten people dead at her feet within five minutes! She'd be lucky if she got more than three. Even for a night elf, she was young and had rarely taken part in battles. Her marksman's abilities weren't terribly fabulous either…

Rose hated this feeling of uselessness, this unease, this quiet, cold, painfully slow passage of time. Had the fighting started? Had it ended? Had it yet to begin? Was Atrum alive? Was Rowan alive? Gahren? Torva? What about that buffoon Ferdre, was he still alive? Times like these reminded her of when she was just a young girl, no taller than a deer. They reminded her of the conflict between the Priestess and Queen. It was pointless to ask, pointless to wonder. She already knew the answer, but couldn't help saying it. In such a helpless state, it was all she could do to ask "Why?"

------------

His eyes pierced through the lush green of the forest. He smelled them before he saw them, but both signs came to him quickly. The clinking of bone on bone further served to confirm his suspicions. The hunter hurried down the large canyon path, nearly tripping over dry boards of wood that were littered across the ground. "Get ready!" he bellowed. Gahren greeted him as he neared his hiding place. Upon entering the small dugout in the canyon wall, Atrum surveyed his troops. Some humans, some gnolls, a couple of elves... most of them looked like they hadn't seen too many real fights. Atrum wagered he had a little less than a hundred people, which was bad, but would have to do. Hopefully, the traps would make up for it.

"Gahren, come here. Tell me, did you set up the dynamite?"

The large gnoll nodded. "One of the archers will light the fuse with a flame arrow. How are you feeling, my Lord?"

"Eh, alright… somewhat restless, I guess. It's just pre-fight adrenaline starting to pump." An unnerving silence followed and further served to shake Atrum. He was about to take on an entire army of undead. Could he do hit? Hell yes! Could he live through it? That was still up for debate. Wait a second… what was with the silence? He peaked his head out the site of the hideaway.

'_Sweet fornicating_ _oysters! The bitch has us surrounded._'

Luckily, it looked as though they hadn't noticed the archers, that was good. Another moment passed before the undead started making there way into the canyon. Slowly, they came, keeping to the walls, as if that made them any safer. They disregarded the debris lying around, not bothering to clear a path. About fifty ghouls on each side led the trek down, with large mountains of flesh following them downward. Atrum spotted a Lich leading one half of the forces, and a Death Knight leading the other. Behind the knight was the Dark Ranger herself.

Atrum looked back at the wall of Aabominations and grimaced. Those would seriously hinder troop movement… they'd have to go down first. A look upward brought the presence of some gargoyles to his attention. Not good, definitely not good…

The burnt of the forces had entered the canyon already. All that was left now was to give the signal. Atrum calmed himself, took a deep breath, and counted down from three.

_3…_

_2…_

_1…_

"**_FIRE!_"**

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Gotcha! The classic cliffhanger! P

Anyway, I'm back, folks. Sorry for the break, school and a stunt in creative thought was in the way, but now I'm ready to go again. Review, please. Reviews will bring in more chapters!


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